Wednesday, August 25, 2010

School day blues...

On a summer day in 1994 i officially finished my school days. Sure i went on to study further but my days of real school were over. I was all of 17 and breathed a sighof relief. Life went on merrily (love, marriage, kids) until my oldest son, started school in 2010. I was excited. Yay! School days had become sepia coloured moments of joy, crystallised in my memory to a school annual addition of friends, concerts, favourite teachers etc.

I get all weepy as i kit my beloved out in his new green uniform. He looks a treat. I am even more nostaligic. This is wonderful. I cover books. I pack lunch with little notes in. This is fun. I am going to be all that my mother was not. Involved, active, encouraging. I sign up for things frantically. I join the PTA. I meet my son's teacher. Her name is Mrs Fischer. She seems nice. She is friendly and fun. After two weeks she accosts me at the PTA tea table and tells me that my wonderful bright son, who was always a star, cannot cope, has ADHD and needs medication. I almost drop my tea cup. I almost throw my tea cup at her.

I go into frantic mom mode. I drive to the educational book shop and purchase a huge amount of material. I practically home school the kid after hours. He gets everything (except my anxiety thankfully). He seem so be fine with the work. Okay I pay a huge amount to have him assessed by the occupational therapist. She says that he is 100%. No problems. Actually scores higher then average on most things. ABSOLUTELY does not require any medication. I approach Mrs Fischer with all my work. She looks at me as if she does not know what i am talking about. She has moved onto another kid she does not like and now likes my son. She says sweetly that he is doing so well in class and concentrates well. I want to kick her. I smile sweetly.

I realise that she is as crazy as hell. I collect his first report and she accosts me to tell me about her life which is falling apart. She is divorcing her husband. They have not had sex in four years. He screams at her son. She tells me all of this casually just because it says social worker as maternal occupation on Gabby's file. She says that she thinks that she has been bewitched. I smile and wave. I realise that she is a bit unstable and needs a lot of ass kissing. I am super friendly, agree to be the class mom. I donate copious amounts of food to the school feeding scheme that she is responible for. Forget integrity. It is officially time to schmooze and manipulate. Through it all my son likes her. I question him regularly, subtly. He likes his teacher he says.

The school concert comes up. She only selects four children from her class to take part. Other grade one teachers let their whole classes take part. Gabby is not one of the four. He cries when he gets home. I am so angry that she could not just let them all march on and sing "Twinkle, twinkle little star." I decide not to volunteer to help at the concert. I boycott.

The third term is nearly over and i cannot wait for December. I really want this school year to end. If Seth should go to this school, i will make sure that he does not land up in her class. I dont think that my son will ever know how much maneouvring i had to do to keep the wheels turning this year. A couple of other moms grabbed me at the school run the other morning and had a ventilation about her. They felt that we should complain. They all had their stories. Their kids upset in class. They had fought with her on many issues. Things that were said to their kids. I felt relieved that Gabby was spared most of this. He actually does seem to be liked by her. But she is still weird, freaky, crazy.

My story......

I am a South African mom trying to be a good mom, create a magical sound childhood for my children, be creative and still work for my bread and butter. I have two beautiful sons and a dear hubby, We live in Johannesburg.